


Siegemas Day 21 - Christmas morning and snowballs

by JudusEye



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Morning, Family, Family Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudusEye/pseuds/JudusEye
Summary: Just some family fluff with Miles and Gus! For the Siegemas event hosted by dualrainbow!
Relationships: Miles "Castle" Campbell/Gustave "Doc" Kateb
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Siegemas Day 21 - Christmas morning and snowballs

“Papa.”  
The soft voice rouses Miles from his deep sleep. He hums a questioning note and stretches his legs out. A whisper; he’s not sure if it’s the voice or the sheets ruffling but it doesn’t sound urgent to his sleep-addled brain either way. He doesn’t even feel himself drifting back into sleep.  
“Papa.”  
He groans and rolls over, tugging the comforter all the way up under his chin, intent on ignoring the voice until they get the hint and leave him be.  
“Papa.”  
Not even a second later; he groans again. For the record he really does try to open his eyes; they roll backwards in his head, and for a split second, he can see a soft sliver of light and then they fall back closed. His internal clock says it must be earlier than 7 in the morning… on one of his days off. Absolutely not, he was not getting up yet.  
“Papa!”  
By the way the voice protested, he may have said that last part out loud. There’s a firm pat on his upper arm. He grunts at the disturbance, which comes out as an explosive sigh instead. The air is still and he subconsciously tenses, ready for another smack on the arm or the voice to demand him to get up. But it never comes, instead, there’s a heavy moment of silence that lures Miles back to sleep. Blissful numbness engulfs his body; he feels unbelievably heavy, like how he imagined it would feel to be engulfed by quicksand as a kid, pressure pushing in on every inch of his body in an oddly comforting way. But his body feels free, free to move around but still pressurized, like floating ten feet underwater; water shifting around him, pushing against his flesh, so lucid that he thinks he may be dreaming about falling asleep. Then something heavy jumps on his side, spindly limbs digging into his stomach. Five years ago he would have went into attack mode, reached for the knife that wasn’t on his nightstand anymore, would’ve stayed up all night afterwards; but he was domesticated now, living off base with his husband and daughters, he doesn’t live in fear anymore. So when the air is knocked out of him with a powerful wheeze, he simply shifts to accommodate the little beast that has pounced on him; yawning as the weight settles against his hip.  
“Papaaa.” The weight draws out in a precious sing-song voice.  
“Five more minutes?” He asks sleepily, peering up at the weight straddling his hip.  
“No!” She giggles, bouncing up and down on him, attempting to shake the sleepiness out of him. “It’s Christmas!” She shouts, then leans into his face with a wide grin to whisper, “It’s Christmas!” He can’t help but smile at her excitement. Miles was the same way when he was her age: staying up too late to watch Christmas movies, screaming Christmas carols to his patient parents, cutting snowflakes out of paper and taping them to the walls. He remembers waking his parents up on Christmas morning bright and early, much to their grief, just as Renee did now. His childhood excitement never really died down; sure he matured, his excitement became contained, more subtle, less jumping around and more big hugs and wide smiles. He could see himself in Renee’s twinkling brown eyes, in the way she leans forward expectantly when they make eye contact. It sparks a memory. Barging through his parents’ bedroom door and leaping onto the bed screaming that it was Christmas. He would shake his parents awake and jump all over the bed, his mother would be the first to wake up and call him a little monkey. His father wouldn’t wake up until Miles climbed on top of him and then he would suddenly come to life and pull him into his strong grasp and tickle him until Miles was crying from laughter. His mother would pretend to try and help him escape, but she always seemed to give up right before Miles could break free.  
A plan begins to form in his mind.  
He huffs, turning away from her to hide his grin in his elbow. “Five more minutes,” he requests, voice dripping with feigned sleep. As expected, Renee protests and shakes him again, crawling up his side to really get her point across. He waits until she bumps his elbow, then reaches out as quick as a striking snake and pulls her off of him. She screeches, taken off guard by the sudden movement of her supposedly sleepy Papa, and lands on her side beside him. Immediately, she’s clawing desperately at the covers, attempting to escape his reach.  
“Oh no you don’t!” He grabs her by her kicking feet, she squeals as he pulls her closer to him. “You don’t get to come in here and hop on Pop without consequences!” He snakes an arm under her belly and pulls her right up against his chest and goes in for the kill; his fingers immediately finding her sensitive armpits. High pitched screeches turn into peels of laughter, harmonizing with Miles’s own deep laughter.  
The tickle war only lasts a couple of seconds, Miles lets her recover from the sudden attack before she can hyperventilate. She heaves beside him, giggling every once in awhile and shying away from him when he moves. “Come here you,” he wraps his arms around her and rolls onto his back. Renee flops against his chest loosely, breathing heavily from her tickle torture. He looks down at her amusedly, her coiled hair tickles his nose and he squeezes her against his chest. She radiates a pleasant warmth, he could probably fall back asleep like this.  
“Time to go back to bed.”  
“No!” Her energy returns full force, oh to be young and wild again, wiggling in his unrelenting grip. He hums, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around her. She arches in his grasp and kicks her little feet against his thighs, “Papa get up!”  
He snores loudly.  
“Daddy is going to get onto you!” She warns with a giggle at the exact same time he hears someone clear their throat at the door.  
Uh oh.  
His eyes slowly travel to the source of the noise to see Gustave standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, looking between Miles and Renee with good humor twinkling in his dark eyes. His arms cross over his chest and he tilts his head, Miles can see the silent question. What are you doing? He flashes a dopey grin at his husband, “You look good.”  
And he does, in his dark blue Christmas sweater with little white snowflakes embroidered across the fabric and matching bottoms. He’s a sight only the privileged get to see; his fluffy hair isn’t slicked back for work as usual - Miles thinks it looks more ruffled than usual, perhaps by the hands of their youngest daughter - and he has a five o’clock shadow that he’s allowed to grow out over their Christmas break that Miles really wants to rub his palm against.  
“You can’t flirt with me to escape getting up.”  
Damn.  
“I would never! What, a man can’t flirt with his husband without being accused of-“  
Renee takes advantage of Miles’s lull in focus and loose grip to escape his grasp and launch herself off the bed before he has a chance to grab her little feet again.  
“You little beastie!” He shouts after her, grinning widely as she slips past her dad in the doorway. She is already barreling down the stairs before Miles can even sit up.  
“Renee! Walk!” Gustave turns to shout at her. There’s a small silence as the heavy thumping of feet pause, and then the comedic sound of heavily exaggerated slow footsteps stomping down the stairs. Miles laughs and Gustave turns back towards him, shaking his head. Sensing that he wasn’t about to get anymore shut-eye, Miles groans and rolls out of bed, pausing to stretch his arms over his head before padding up to his husband. Gustave looks up at him expectantly, Miles can see his lips twitching ever so slightly, that’s too cute. He leans down to kiss the shorter man, who rolls into the balls of his feet to fill the gap and wraps his arms around Miles’ torso. When they split, Miles leans back down to pepper short kisses on his husband’s face until Gustave leans back to escape the unrelenting smooches, bright smile across his face.  
“Are you ready to go celebrate Christmas? Sleepyhead.”  
“Maybe just 10 more minutes?”  
Gustave raises one eyebrow.  
“Oh alright. What time is it?”  
“6:46 last time I checked.”  
Miles groans, “Waking up at 6 on our day off?”  
Gustave just hums, running his hands up and down Miles’ arms.  
“Is Naomi up?”  
“Yes, she’s downstairs,” he pauses then smiles knowingly, “eating all the pancakes I made.”  
Miles kisses him excitedly, “Well, what are we waiting for! I need some pancakes!” Maybe he still had some of that young and wild energy Renee was showing off earlier.  
“Oh, now you don’t want to sleep in.”  
Miles winks, untangling himself from Gustave’s arms, “There’s pancakes on the line now! Come on, Naomi is going to eat them all before I can get some!”  
He speed walks out of the room and barrels down the stairs, only a third of the way down before Gus shouts at him to walk. “Naomi! You better not eat all of those pancakes! Your father is forcing me to walk down these stairs!” He yells and hears the cackling of conniving little girls in response. Once he hits the hardwood floor of the living room, Minnie is underfoot attempting to trip him up.  
“Minnie, you little monster. Quit trying to kill your dad!” He crouches down to rub her fat little pug torso with both hands, careful not to knock her off balance with her three little legs, before standing back up and power walking to the kitchen.  
The sight is… startling to say the least.  
Rugby has his massive paws on the countertop, towering over the girls as they feed him little pieces of sausage and his peanut butter treats. He has white patches of flour across his tan and black face, undoubtedly a byproduct of the pancake mix Naomi is cleaning out of a bowl.  
“Rugby, down boy!”  
The mastiff looks up at Miles, or close enough to where he is with his limited sight, then over to Renee who gives him another sausage.  
“Rugby.”  
His ears pull back at Miles’ stern voice, there’s a pause as he decides what he wants to do. Then he lets out a quiet, gruff bark that Miles thinks is the closest thing to an aggravated groan a dog can make. Very slowly, as if to make a show out of his loyalty, Rugby takes one paw off the countertop and then pushes away with the other to set his paws on the ground, claws clicking against the hardwood as he trudges past Miles.  
“What did you guys make for breakfast? Or did you feed it all to the dogs?”  
Renee grins, “No! There’s still pancakes and,” she pauses to count something, “three sausages!” Naomi holds out a plate of mini pancakes.  
They are delicious, Miles is on his third pancake by the time Gustave enters the kitchen. Just as he enters, there’s a loud bang against the back door. An electric pulse races up his spine as they all whip their heads to the backdoor; a bulky black and brown dog has its face pushed up against the glass, lips pulled back to show thick white teeth shining with spit.  
“Baby! You scared us!” Renee yells to the dog with a laugh. Immediately, the dog starts wagging its tail delighted to have everyone’s attention.  
“I swear he’s going to break the door one day,” Gus mutters, rubbing his forehead, “You better let him in before he does it again.”  
Grabbing one more pancake before he gets up, Miles walks to the door and opens it. A flash of gold leaps over Baby before he can walk inside. Claws clack against the ground as the gold creature skitters across the slippery floor, heading straight towards Naomi.  
“Senna! Wittle baby puppy!” She exclaims in what Miles calls ‘baby talk’ and drops down to her knees to hug the gold creature as she slides into Naomi’s arms.  
But Miles attention isn’t on them nor is it on Baby Cakes as he bounds into the house and makes a beeline for the rug; no, it’s on the ground outside. Their yard is covered in thick, powdery snow. Paw prints mar the carpet effect near the door and around the yard. He glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching him; Naomi and Renee are in the process of ripping one the last sausages in little pieces and throwing them into the air for Senna to catch and Gustave is lightheartedly demanding Baby Cakes to quit drying himself off on the good rug. Deciding the coast is clear, Miles kneels down and scoops up some of the piled snow into one hand, adding more to the mound until he can smooth it into a spherical shape.  
“Miles.”  
He looks over his shoulder to see Gustave looking at him with sharp eyes.  
“Don’t you dare bring that snowball in the house.”  
Miles grins and stands up, flaunting the snowball off to the girls who are looking between their dads with curious eyes. He takes a step forward, bouncing the snowball against his palm.”  
“Don’t you dare-“  
It sails slowly through the air, smacking wetly against Gus’ chest.  
There’s a startled silence; then Renee starts to howl with laughter, Naomi joining in at the sight of the melting snowball dripping off their daddy’s sweater and onto the floor. Gus slowly reaches over to the couch, and as quick as his trigger finger, he grabs a pillow by the corner and flings it at Miles who just barely blocks it from smacking him upside the head.  
“Oh it’s on!” He falls to his knees, gathering snow together with his two hands.  
“Renee! Get him!” The demand is barely out of his husband’s mouth before he hears the slapping of naked feet running across the ground and a sudden weight jumps on his back that has him stumbling forward. Renee wraps her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life, giggling wildly. Oh two can play at that game.  
“Naomi! Get your father!”  
Her battle cry is awe-inspiring, he can hear at least two dogs respond with their own howling cries and an ‘oof’ as his husband is tackled into the couch.  
Not without struggle, Miles stands up, still carrying Renee on his back, and reaches around to slap the deformed snowball onto the top of her head. The following screech also commands some of the dogs to howl and bark. She still holds tight, even as the snow melts and drips down her back; she has Gus’ willpower.  
He whips around to see Gus and Naomi wrestling on the couch, she has one of his arms pinned against his side but was losing grip quickly. Trudging forward, he falls onto the couch beside his husband and wraps his arms around him. Renee crawls over his side and rubs her wet hair on his cheek.  
“Eck! Gross!”  
Naomi laughs at the display, her grip on Gus’ arm loosens enough for the man to free his arm and wrap them around Naomi. She immediately starts squirming around, laughing wildly and pleading for Renee to help her.  
“I’m sleepy. I guess Christmas will have to wait until tomorrow.” Miles says slyly and traps Renee between his calves as she tries to escape. It only takes about a minute for them to wear themselves out and when they do it’s peaceful, still and quiet. Miles can feel his husband’s breath against his neck and snakes an arm under his waist to pull them closer together, his other arm wraps around Naomi who settles against his chest. Renee is slumped against his thigh, cradled between her dads. It’s picturesque, a happy family snuggling together on Christmas morning, just enjoying the moment and each other’s presence. That is, until Renee yells that it’s time to open presents and Miles is elbowed in the gut as his two girls scramble to get to the tree first. Gustave starts laughing, and Miles can’t help but join. Life hasn’t felt so perfect in awhile.


End file.
